


the alternative to love

by honey_wheeler



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the Season 8 tour. In which things aren’t quite what Adam ever expected. But don’t worry, Danny’s not his boyfriend. Stop being a baby and read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the alternative to love

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as a semi-dare to see if I could write a good Lamkey drabble in return for a charity donation. Five drabbles for five dollars was what we agreed on. It snowballed.

**  
_1\. we’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl_   
**

“Give me one more.”

It’s late. Darkness presses in from outside, telephone poles and trees making soft whumps as they fly rhythmically past the windows of the bus. Adam stifles a yawn. This all-tour-no-sleep business is getting to him. Adam’s a man who loves his sleep.

“I’m worn out, Danny,” he says. Danny pouts dramatically.

“But everyone else passed out.” He gestures to the bunks in the hallway, where the mingled snores from the rest of the guys are almost enough to drown out the sound of the engine. “And I want one more.”

“I think you’ve had enough Truth or Dare for one night,” Adam tells him. “And enough booze.” He reaches forward and tugs the bottle from Danny’s fist. Danny makes a half-hearted attempt to hold on to it, but he gives up after a second’s struggle. He hasn’t even had that much to drink, but they’re all running on not enough sleep and not enough food. The last time Adam had a glass of wine with dinner, it went straight to his head, so he’s been avoiding alcohol ever since. Danny hasn’t seem to learn his lesson yet, but that’s kind of par for the course for him. Adam almost finds it endearing, really. Danny still sometimes puts his foot in his mouth – hell, sometimes he gets both in there – but the Danny of the tour isn’t really the Danny of the show. Adam was surprised the first time he realized he meant it when he said he loved everyone, that he wasn’t just saying it as good PR, as politeness, as diplomacy.

“Just one more, Adam,” Danny says. “One more and I’ll leave you alone.”

“You’ve said that twice already,” Adam reminds him, his patience wearing thin. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long week. It’s been a long _year_.

“But I _mean_ it this time,” Danny wheedles. “C’mon, play!”

“Danny, no,” Adam says sharply. It’s his Family Dog voice, the one his mother always used when the dog was misbehaving. Adam knows he should stop using it on Danny; he’s not a cocker spaniel, for fuck’s sake. But sometimes Adam can’t help it, especially when his competing urge is to smack Danny on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Strangely enough, the voice has about the same effect on Danny as it used to on the dog: he cringes and looks chagrined, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

“Okay,” Danny says quietly. Adam feels like an asshole.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” he sighs. “I’m just tired.”

“Is it the Westboro stuff?” Danny asks. Adam’s surprised. Danny’s usually pretty low on intuition.

“Partly,” he says. Danny’s eyebrows knit themselves into a surprisingly fierce scowl.

“They’re idiots,” he says darkly. “They don’t even have any good reasons to say what they say. I tried to argue with one of them today outside and all he could tell me was that God hates fags.” He spits the last word out as if it’s something bitter on his tongue. Adam’s eyebrows, already climbing at the revelation that Danny was _arguing_ with them, are now so high that they’re practically in his hairline.

“What’d you say to that?” Adam asks, curious but bracing himself for the weird doublespeak nonsense that Danny usually says in situations like these. But Danny gives him a sly grin.

“I told him that God hates hate more,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t credit you, I didn’t think it would go over well with that particular audience.”

Adam has to stop a minute and let that sink in. It’s…he doesn’t even know where to _start_. It’s too much to process. Danny’s grin falters and he looks at Adam nervously. It’s that Golden Retriever look again, where he thinks he did something wrong, but he’s not sure.

“Adam?” he asks tentatively.

“Truth or dare?” Adam asks.

“What?”

“You wanted one more, right? Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Danny says, still regarding Adam warily.

“Okay, are you really cool with me being gay? Or is this just some big show because you think it’s how you’re supposed to act?” It’s kind of an unfair question. Adam knows Danny’s not the same person he used to be. He didn’t even really mean to ask it, he was planning to lob Danny some softball question to be nice. But it just slipped out. He needs to ask. He needs to put it out there in the plainest terms and see what Danny says.

“I’m okay with it,” Danny says, appearing to consider his words carefully. “I don’t really understand it, but, y’know, I’ve realized I don’t have to understand to be cool with it.” Adam’s quiet for a moment. His gut believes Danny, but his brain is lagging behind a bit. “Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” Adam says truthfully. “It’s a lot to take in, to be honest.”

“I’ll prove it,” Danny says, suddenly seeming to remember that he’s drunk. He sways towards Adam and grins. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “What are we, twelve? No.”

“I triple dog dare you.”

“You can’t jump levels like that!” Adam protests.

“Are you afraid you’ll like it?” Danny waggles his eyebrows comically. “Come on, what’s the big deal? You afraid you’ll catch my straight?” Adam can’t help but laugh. Danny displays real wit so infrequently, it’s kind of a big deal when he’s actually clever. Danny’s looking at him expectantly, somehow managing to look daring and apologetic at the same time.

Adam’s not sure what will happen if he does it. Maybe nothing, maybe they’ll peck each other on the lips and go on with their lives. Maybe they’ll both freak out. Maybe Danny will Hulk out and punch Adam for real, not the easy jokey punches the boys usually throw at each other, but one of those full-on, gay panic, fuck-your-shit-up type of punches. Adam studies Danny’s face for clues, but in the end he shrugs and figures he’ll only live once.

“Just remember this was your idea,” he says, and then he lets Danny kiss him.

It’s not the typical Truth or Dare type of kiss that Adam was expecting: a giggle, a mash of mouths, a quick retreat. Instead Danny is hesitant, barely touching his lips to Adam’s at first – as if he’s afraid of the reception – before settling into a real kiss. Adam’s surprised to find that Danny’s lips are soft, that his breath is spicy and a little sweet as it feathers softly over Adam’s skin. With his eyes closed, he could be kissing anybody and he’d probably be into it. That’s the only reason he can come up with for why, when Danny opens his mouth and presses closer to skim his tongue along Adam’s lower lip, Adam meets Danny’s tongue with his own. It’s either that, or shock making his mouth drop open in surprise.

Adam thinks it’s Danny who groans – he kind of can’t tell, though, since he feels a little like he’s on acid right now. That’s the last time he remembers feeling this way, like he’s lost his grip on the world he knows. He’s kissing _Danny_ – if that’s not a trip, Adam doesn’t know what is.

Of course, the fact that they’re both enjoying it might beat that out in the trippy department.

“Okay,” Adam says, pulling away from Danny with a hand pressed to his shoulder for leverage. “Okay, I think you proved your point.” Danny looks shaky and surprised but – and Adam catalogs this away later to mull over later – not grossed out.

“Adam-” Danny starts, but Adam is so not prepared to _discuss_ this, so he cuts him off.

“Let’s just pretend that this never happened, shall we? We should probably get to bed before it’s tomorrow.” He doesn’t leave Danny much opportunity to reply as he pushes to his feet and heads straight for his bunk, not even bothering to brush his teeth before climbing in, twitching the curtain closed, and shoving his headphones into his ears. He hears Danny hesitate for a long time on the other side of the curtain. Adam steels himself, but Danny moves away after a moment, gathering his things and ducking into the tiny bathroom.

It takes much longer than usual to fall asleep that night.

 

 _  
**2\. you told me again you preferred handsome men, but for me you would make an exception**   
_

There’s no liquor this time. There’s not even Truth or Dare. There’s nothing that Adam can blame other than horniness, loneliness, or sheer insanity for the fact that he’s making out with Danny Gokey in a supply closet down the hall from the greenroom in some arena somewhere, he can’t even remember which one. A fucking _closet_ , of all the fucking places.

“You really could have picked a better place for this,” he says against Danny’s lips, his hands propped against the wall on either side of Danny’s head. He’s still surprised that Danny’s not a terrible kisser. Adam would have thought he’d be kind of a dead fish, but he’s actually pretty good at it. Good enough that it’s all Adam’s been thinking about since the other night, which is just about the craziest part of all this.

“It seemed convenient,” Danny says with a shrug. “What’s wrong with it?” Adam pushes away from the wall and gives Danny a look.

“Uh, we’re in the closet? The irony can’t be lost on you.” Danny only looks back blankly, confused. Adam sighs. “Guess it can…”

“Could we just-” Danny breaks off, runs a nervous tongue across his lower lip. His eyes flicker down to Adam’s mouth. “Come on, let’s just keep going.” One of his hands is fisted in Adam’s t-shirt, stretching it to the point of no return. Danny probably doesn’t even realize that it cost a hundred dollars. Adam can smell his cologne and it’s nice. Woodsy and fresh, like Danny might go out and cut some firewood later. His voice is even rougher than usual. It’s kind of doing weird things to Adam’s stomach. The last few guys he’s been with haven’t exactly been high on testosterone. He didn’t realize that a deeper voice would have such an effect on him.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Adam says, but he sinks back, lets his mouth settle on Danny’s. Part of his brain – the part that’s not thinking, why are you making out with _Danny_ in a _closet_ , you crazy person? – wonders exactly what the hell Danny is thinking in all this. Adam’s always believed that sexuality is fluid, that people fall on a spectrum somewhere between straight and gay. He’s seen Kinsey the _movie_ even if he hasn’t read the Kinsey _report_. And he’s seen plenty of real life evidence of just how flexible sexuality can be, reports and movies aside. But he’d never pegged Danny as anything other than totally hetero. He’s got the feeling that Danny hasn’t either, judging by the dazed expression on his face when Adam pulls back to take a breath, and the frantic way he gulps air into his lungs.

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” Adam asks, frowning.

“I’m the one who started it, aren’t I?” Danny says almost defiantly.

It’s true, he was. Adam probably would have jumped off a bridge before initiating another kiss with Danny, even if he _has_ been thinking about it nonstop. It’s on the tip of Adam’s tongue to ask just why Danny started it, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t really want to know why. Knowing why kind of kills what he likes about spending time with Danny. He’s so simple and uncomplicated. Okay, not always in a good way, but it’s shockingly easy to be around him. Adam never feels like he has to live up to some idea of who he should be with Danny. Danny has no clue, no expectations, no agenda. He’s impossible to disappoint. And the words, “Oh honey, no,” aren’t even in his vocabulary.

So Adam doesn’t ask, he just kisses Danny again, lets his senses switch on and his brain switch off. Slowly he relaxes his arms until his weight is settled against Danny, until he can feel the warmth of his body from shoulder to knee. Danny’s body is always hot – he’s like a space heater wearing clothing-coordinated glasses – and Adam shivers, his body feeling cold in contrast. Time slips away from him; he’s got no idea how long they’ve been in there, ten minutes, twenty, an hour. Long enough that he’s itching to push farther, though, to ramp things up. He slips his knee in between Danny’s and gives his hips a roll.

“Adam,” Danny gets out, but it dissolves into a choked sound. His eyes practically roll back into his head as Adam watches in fascination. It may be Danny, but it’s still flattering. Adam ducks his head, he flicks his tongue out to press it against the pulse at Danny’s throat-

The rattle of the doorknob might as well be a gunshot. They jump apart as if they’re spring-loaded. Adam’s eyes shoot towards the door. Did he lock it? He can’t remember locking it. His whole body is tense.

“Dammit, locked,” a voice grumbles outside the door. “And Joe’s got the keys.” The voice drifts off, muttering to itself, and Adam relaxes a fraction. He hasn’t been this freaked out about getting caught since before he came out. It’s kind of a shock to his system.

“This is nuts,” he says, more to himself than to Danny. “I’ve got to get a hold of myself.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks. He seems way calmer than Adam would expect, under the circumstances. The day Danny is so unconcerned about being caught making out with a guy and Adam’s a basket case over it is not a day Adam ever thought he’d see.

“I think we need to stop doing this,” Adam says. He’s going for gentle, but firm. Danny shoots him a skeptical look. Adam casts about for something logical to say, some solid reason to explain his panic. “I mean, I’ve got Drake, I really shouldn’t be making out with other people.”

“You told me you weren’t exclusive,” Danny says. “ _He_ told me you weren’t exclusive.”

“We’re not, but…” Adam trails off. He can’t quite say that Drake would probably be less bothered if Adam hooked up with someone both gay and more attractive. But if he’s honest with himself, he has to admit that Drake has nothing to do with it. No, the problem is that Adam’s embarrassed by the whole thing. It’s an unfamiliar sensation.

“Well when you figure it out, you let me know,” Danny says, only the set of his jaw indicating any frustration. He flips open the lock open and slips out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Adam lets his knees give and he leans against the shelves lining the walls, breathing out through his nose until his heart rate slows.

He’s still there when the janitor comes back fifteen minutes later. He pretends he was looking for a roll of toilet paper and he backs out of the room, holding it in front of himself and thanking the janitor brightly. It’s awkward, but hardly the most awkward thing to happen lately.

 

 _  
**3\. and we’re slow to acknowledge the knots in our laces**   
_

“So you’ve been spending a lot of time with Danny.” Kris says it casually, absently. They’re camped out on couches in the greenroom, Adam clearing out old texts on his phone and Kris flipping through a magazine his mother brought from home last time they came to the show, one with him on the cover in front of the American flag like he’s G.I. Joe or something.

“No I haven’t,” Adam says. It’s a complete knee-jerk response, too immediate by half. Kris pauses and looks up from the magazine.

“Uh, okay?”

“I really haven’t,” Adam says, even as he tells himself to shut up. “Maybe it seems that way or something because you’ve been busy, but I’ve been hanging out with Danny a normal amount. Totally normal. In fact, I’ve barely seen him in the last few days.” Holy hell, Adam, _shut up_. Kris makes a face at him, half puzzled, half amused.

“All I said was that you’d been spending a lot of time with him,” Kris says slowly.

“It’s nothing. What, ‘cause I’m gay I can’t hang out with a guy without it meaning something?” Okay, now _that_ was a ridiculous thing to say. Adam cringes inwardly at himself. Kris merely cocks an eyebrow. “Oh shut up,” Adam mutters.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say something was going on between you two,” Kris says, studying Adam’s face carefully, his magazine forgotten in his lap. Adam wills himself to look casual and nonchalant. It doesn’t work. Judging by the look on Kris’s face, he looks very very chalant right about now. Kris sits up a little straighter on the couch. “Are…you saying I don’t know better?”

“I refuse to answer that,” Adam says weakly. He tries to focus on his phone but there’s no point now, so he drops it in his lap and dares a glance at Kris. Kris’s mouth is hanging open. Fifty different reactions flit across his face and he looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“Holy shit,” is what he settles on.

“That about covers it.” Adam props his elbows on his knees and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees paisley behind his eyelids. “I think I’ve lost my fucking mind. And you better not breathe a word about this to _anyone_.” He gives Kris a threatening look. Kris does not seem impressed.

“You’re like a third grader who doesn’t want anyone to know he likes a gross, cootie-covered _girl_ ,” he says in fascination. “I’ve never _seen_ this side of you.”

“That makes two of us,” Adam groans.

“This is the best thing ever.” Kris is grinning like someone just gave him an early Christmas present.

“What the fuck?” Adam demands. “How is this anything other than a complete disaster? It’s _Danny._ Me and Danny! It’s horrible!”

“It’s hilarious,” Kris counters.

“It is _against nature._ I feel like the football captain dating the president of the physics club in secret.”

“Did you…” Kris trails off and makes a punching motion with his fist.

“No! _No,_ we just…we’ve only…NO, we did not…” Adam mimics Kris’s gesture. Normally he doesn’t shy away from calling a spade a spade, but it seems different when Danny’s part of the equation.

”Well, whatever makes you happy, bro,” Kris says, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s not like that,” Adam says, glad, at least, that that much is true. “And even if it were, Danny would not make me happy. I mean, he’s _Danny_. You’ve heard the shit he’s said. The guy’s so unenlightened he makes…he makes…okay, I can’t even think of a good comparison, that’s how unenlightened he is.” Kris slants a look at Adam.

“You know he’s different than he was,” Kris says. “He’s been exposed to a lot since the beginning of the show. Sometimes people change their stupid opinions.”

“What’s that saying about leopards changing their spots?” Adam grumbles. He doesn’t know why he’s being so churlish when Kris is only saying what Adam himself has thought several times. Maybe because being morally indignant is better than acknowledging he’s being shallow.

“You must like _something_ about being around him,” Kris points out. “I’m not saying you want to marry the guy, but you obviously get something out of this.”

“It’s easy,” Adam admits. “He doesn’t care what or who I’m wearing, he doesn’t notice my shoes or my hair or give a shit about what’s on my iPod. It’s kind of a relief, actually.”

“So,” Kris says, like that settles some sort of argument. “That’s all there is to it.”

“But he’s _Danny_ ,” is the only objection Adam can muster.

“Because I love you, I’m allowed tell you that you’re being an idiot right now,” Kris says. Adam rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Kris who blows him a raspberry in reply. Adam looks away, fiddling with the neoprene covering on his phone. Kris goes back to his magazine. He relaxes into the couch cushions, seemingly content in the knowledge that Adam’s got no way out. Damn him, he’s right.

“Did you know he tried to argue with the Westboro Baptist Assholes the other day?” Adam asks quietly after a few minutes. Kris gets one of those knowing smiles of his that would be insufferable if he weren’t so damned cute.

“I was unaware,” Kris says.

“It was a fluke anyway,” Adam tells him. “It’s not going to happen again.” Kris regards him over the top of his magazine.

“The arguing or the…whatever it is you did with him?”

“You know which one I meant.”

“Well, we’ll all still love you even if it does happen again,” Kris says. It’s the completely casual way he says it that gets Adam, like it’s so beyond true no one could even question it. It’s stupid to get a little emotional over that. Adam does anyway.

 

 **  
_4\. you’re no poem when you open your mouth_   
**

It’s a little strange. Okay, it’s a _lot_ strange. Adam’s taste is fairly predictable: slight, Southern, pretty. Danny fails on all three counts. None of which explains how they end up in Adam’s hotel room after a night out. Or how Adam’s working the buckle of Danny’s belt loose and tossing the strip of leather somewhere towards the closet. If he thinks too long about it, he’ll drive himself insane, so he’s going thought-free tonight.

Though even beyond all that it’s strange. There’s not usually any question as to who’s in charge when Adam’s involved. Danny doesn’t even seem to realize that anyone’s _supposed_ to be in charge. He’s never inhabited a world where men have to choose their roles in the bedroom. There’s no yielding here, no surrender; instead they grapple for control, each pushing and pulling and pursuing. It’s wild, almost reckless. Strangely exhilarating, actually. It’s nothing like love. It’s not even fondness or affection, it’s just…contact. That’s a new experience for Adam. For all his talk, he’s pretty old-fashioned, always wanting love with sex, affection with action. Brad used to tease him about it, saying that only Adam could make handcuffs and whips vanilla.

“Danny, relax,” Adam says when Danny fumbles at his belt buckle in turn, his thumb jabbing into the soft flesh at Adam’s stomach. “ _Relax_ , okay? It’s not a competition.” Danny’s hand immediately retreats. He’s got the Golden Retriever look again.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just nervous. I mean, you’re used to this and I’m not and I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of you. You always know how to do everything. You never look like an idiot.” He’s babbling. He’s also wrong – Adam’s looked like an idiot plenty in his lifetime. It strikes a chord, though.

“It’s okay,” Adam says gently. “Just…take it easy. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.” Danny swallows nervously. “I should probably trust you on this. You’re the one who knows what he’s doing.” Adam suppresses a smile.

“I’ve done it a time or two,” he says.

“You’re gonna have to show me,” Danny tells him. Adam does allow himself a smile at that. Instead of answering, he slides his hand under the waistband of Danny’s jeans. Danny’s response is immediate and gratifying. He makes an inarticulate noise – he kind of sounds like he’s gargling, which is not hot in the slightest, but still flattering – and he clutches at Adam’s wrist like he’s afraid Adam will change his mind and pull back.

“How’s that?” Adam asks casually, enjoying the upper hand. It’s kind of fun reducing Danny into an incoherent mess. That’s a perk he didn’t expect.

“Unnhh,” Danny answers. Adam twists his hand, moves his thumb _just so_ and is rewarded by another strangled moan. Danny’s knee slides up reflexively and Adam lets it press against his crotch. No reason Danny should be having all the fun. Danny freezes when he notices Adam is hard against his thigh.

“You’re, uh,” he starts and falters. “I mean, you’re…”

“That _is_ kind of the point,” Adam says.

“I know, I just…I didn’t think about that, and, and,” Danny stammers. “And it’s like, you know, I mean it’s not like I’m _used_ to that because, you know, girls, and of course my wife didn’t have a…well, you know that she didn’t, or maybe you don’t because you never met her, but trust me, she didn’t have a-”

“Okay, I need you to stop talking because you’re killing my erection,” Adam says, cutting him off before it can get any worse. At the last word, Danny flushes crimson from the tips of his ears to the neckline of his shirt. It’s bizarrely endearing. Adam hasn’t been around boys who blush in a long, long time.

“Sorry,” Danny says.

“Don’t apologize,” Adam tells him. “Just shut up and let me handle this.”

“Sor-” Adam freezes him with a look. “I mean, okay.”

“Okay,” Adam grins. Abruptly he stands, moving to the edge of the bed before hooking his hands behind Danny’s knees and hauling him over there with him. Danny’s feet hit the floor with twin thumps. Then Adam grabs the hem of Danny’s shirt, wrenches it over his head roughly. Danny obediently raises his arms as Adam works the shirt up and off, tossing it onto the floor next to the bed. It leaves his hair mussed and boyish. Adam sinks to floor in front of Danny, his knees just inside Danny’s feet. Adam can feel Danny’s anklebones hard against the sides of his legs. He looks up at Danny, who blinks owlishly behind his glasses. Adam catches those too, gently pulls them away from his face and sets them on the nightstand. Danny looks nervous at being without them.

“Do you trust me?” Adam asks. His hands are at Danny’s zipper. There’s still time to back out. Danny blinks again, then he nods.

“Yeah,” he says. Adam can tell he means it. There’s another surprise. For both of them. Another one to add to the list.

“Okay,” Adam says. Then he lowers the zipper and gets to work.

 

 **  
_5\. i’m just an animal looking for a home_   
**

“You’re the first, you know.”

It’s the first thing either of them has said for at least twenty minutes. Adam actually thought Danny might have fallen asleep. He smiles a little, tries not to laugh.

“No offense, Dan, but it was pretty obvious that you’ve never slept with a guy before,” he says. Danny shifts next to him, the pillow making a slight crackling noise, the crunch of too many synthetic feathers.

“No, I mean.” Danny gives a little laugh and Adam couldn’t say why, but it’s just about the saddest sound ever. “I mean, yeah, you’re the first guy. But I meant the first since Sophia.” It takes a second to sink in.

“Oh,” Adam says, a weight settling over his ribcage. “ _Oh_.” Well fuck. Now he feels like a jackass. He has no idea what to say. Danny talks about Sophia, but he never really _talks_ about her. This is the first time Adam’s heard him say anything about her that didn’t sound like pat, PR bullshit. It was always one of the things that threw him off about Danny, how he could seem so unaffected by his wife’s death most of the time. He opens his mouth, not sure what to say but feeling like he needs to say _something_ , but Danny beats him to it.

“The first night I had to sleep in our bed without her, I spread out across the whole thing. ‘Cause everyone always says you stay on your side of the bed for years, you know?” Adam nods. He’s heard that too. “I guess I wanted to prove I was okay.”

“How’d that work out?” Adam asks.

“I don’t think I was ever okay,” Danny says. The way he says it – like it’s almost a surprise but not quite – it kind of kills Adam. He wants to do something to comfort Danny, but what? Hold his hand? Cuddle? They don’t exactly have that sort of relationship. Strange how sex is less intimate than affection. Adam settles for shifting his knee over to touch Danny’s, his foot brushing against Danny’s instep. Danny lets him and for a while they just lie there like that, staring at the ceiling in the muted light from the desk lamp they’d left on earlier.

“I’m glad I can talk to you about this,” Danny says, again when Adam’s starting to think he’s fallen asleep. “I never felt like I could before.”

“Why?” Adam asks. He feels Danny shrug next to him. Only Danny would try to shrug lying down.

“I guess I figured my life seemed pretty boring to someone like you. That you’d think I was lame and mainstream and wouldn’t be interested. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Adam says with no rancor.

“I’m sorry,” Danny says.

“It’s fine.”

“No, I mean for everything. For all the stupid stuff. My cousin and the pictures and the stuff about being gay and… Just everything.” Adam rolls that over in his brain. Some of the things Danny’s said are hard to forgive. But Adam feels like maybe he’s ready to start trying.

“I don’t think any of us is the same person we were a few months ago,” he says as an offering. It’s not total forgiveness, and Danny seems to understand that. But it’s acceptance.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” Danny asks. He turns his face slightly towards Adam’s. His eyes look smaller when he’s not wearing his glasses. It’s a little weird. It makes Adam feel like it’s not quite Danny. But maybe it’s not. “I mean, not to do anything else,” Danny hurries to say. “Just…to sleep. I wouldn’t-”

“No, it’s fine,” Adam assures him. “You can stay.”

“Thanks,” Danny says. Adam can hear him shifting around a little, making himself comfortable. It feels strangely domestic. Adam’s been sleeping alone for a while. He leans over to switch off the lamp. The darkness makes everything seem louder and Adam lies awake for a long while, listening to Danny’s breathing even and slow, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the trees outside, to the muted rush of traffic on the highway. He listens to everything and then he slowly allows himself fall asleep just as dawn is lightening the sky outside the window and the birds have started to sing.

 

  
_title from “alternative to Love” by brendan benson, section headers from “wish you were here” by pink floyd, “chelsea hotel #2” by leonard cohen, “heart it races” by architecture in helsinki, “no poem” by inara george, and “this must be the place (naïve melody)” by talking heads_   



End file.
